When I Grow Up

When I grow up I’d like to be thin.  No, svelte.  That’s a more sophisticated word.  And I’d like to have thick, straight hair.  And skin that doesn’t clump into “suspicious” spots when touched by the sun.  I’d like to be unwrinkled.   Without liver spots.  I’d like that one chin hair to fall off from the sheer disapproval of its presence.  I’d like to wear a bikini and walk up and down the aisle of the supermarket with cartons of Ben and Jerry’s in my basket.

I’d like kindness to fall over this world like a warm quilt in winter.

When I grow up I’d like my thick, straight hair to be a natural platinum blonde. I’d like large natural breasts.  And white natural teeth.  I’d like laughter to fall gently from my mouth like fairy bells dancing in a breeze.  I’d like long, slender thighs.  Impossibly long black eyelashes.  Generous lips that need nothing more than a brush of clear gloss once a day.

I’d like every child to have a bicycle.  A red bicycle.

When I grow up I’d like long, perfect fingernails.  I’d like feet soft as a baby’s.  I’d like a perfect tush.  A nose that could only be described as cute.  I’d like Oreo Cookies to be declared healthful.  And eggplant to be banished from the earth.

I’d like mothers to need never scan the sky for rockets.  Children to run without fear of landmines.

When I grow up I’d like to travel in my bikini to Southern France.  Or to Mexico.  Or Iran.  I’d like to walk with my perfect toes through the halls of the Basilica and kiss the Blarney Stone.  I’d like rainbows to stand still so I can find their pots of gold.

I’d like fathers to spend their time on golf courses making pars instead of in foreign lands making wars.

When I grow up … when I grow up  … when I grow up …

Everyone will be so beautiful, no one will notice anyone’s difference.  Jealousy will disappear.  Women will look perfect and men will act peacefully.  We won’t need treaties.  Stem cells will cure Michael J. Fox.  Johnny Depp and Nathan Fillian will seek out my friendship.  My husband will putt like Tiger Woods.

Cancer will be gone and it will feel like 5:00 o’clock cocktail time all the time.